The Bride Wore Spurs (The Inconvenient Bride Series, Book 1) (29 page)

By the time Saturday rolled around, and Hawke and Lacey were off down the road to Three Elk Ranch, he was as sick as a calf with the scours. After he'd managed to wade through the rest of the berry pie, as promised, Lacey baked another of those leather-like crusts and buried something resembling apple mush beneath it. The result of her efforts didn't taste much like apples, but more like the inside of a sugar sack, burlap texture and all. Since he'd pretty much asked for it, Hawke had done his duty and finally managed to choke down the very last bite after supper last evening—all without so much as a lick of help from Crowfoot, the little bastard, who was under no such obligation.

After the wagon rumbled over the narrow wooden bridge spanning the Little Laramie River, Hawke wasn't sure he could make the last few yards to his friend's ranch without tossing his breakfast. Somehow, he managed to hang on, and made the final turn onto Caleb's road a few moments later.

"'Tis a lovely day," Lacey said, suddenly bursting with excitement. "What a shame Crowfoot could not come with us."

Coughing to cover yet another belch, Hawke paused long enough to be reasonably sure he wouldn't inflict any more of his stomach's misery on Lacey's delicate ears before answering her. "I already told you that he's just not ready to face so many strangers at one time yet. He's happy by himself for now." And besides that, he and the boy had cooked up a little surprise for Lacey that ought to be finished by the time they returned to Winterhawke the following morning; freshly shellacked floors throughout the house. "I appreciate your concern for the kid and all the progress you've made with him, but he does work for me, you know, and has to stay behind to tend the livestock."

"Aye, I'm knowing all that, but knowing does not keep me from wishing he could have come along."

"You're soft, Lacey, a little too soft when it comes to Crowfoot, but I suppose that's better than the other extreme." He was considering pointing out a few other places where she was soft, and acceptably so, when Hawke realized they'd arrived at the hitching post out front of Three Elk Ranch; and that Kate was already running down the path to greet them.

"Lacey!" she called, waving robustly. "'Tis a balm to these poor old eyes to see ye again."

"Kate." Lacey jumped down from the wagon before it even came to a complete stop, and flung herself into her former nurse's arms. "Oh, 'tis good to see you again, too."

By the time the women finished hugging each other, Hawke was already making his way toward a corral where Caleb and a pair of hired hands were saddling horses for the roundup. Recognizing that she and her husband would be separated for much of the day, and for the first time since they wed, it was with a pang of bittersweet regret that Lacey followed Kate into the house.

They caught up on the basics when they first entered the kitchen, each of them wanting to know if the other was happy, overworked, or comfortable at last, living in this great land called America. When all appeared to be fine on those counts, and in each household, Kate motioned Lacey to move closer and asked one final question about her well-being.

"And another thing, lass, if ye don't mind my askin'; after the lamp is blown out at night, is this man Hawke as kind and considerate of ye as he should be?"

Knowing instantly what Kate was inquiring about, Lacey blushed to her roots and averted her gaze, a satisfied smile giving her answer better than any words she could think of.

"I see," Kate murmured knowingly. "So he's as kind and considerate as all that, is he?"

Lacey's face grew even redder, hotter. She turned toward the window hoping the ceaseless wind would be blowing as usual, but all was still as her suddenly lifeless pulse. "H-he's, well, Hawke is simply... wonderful."

Kate, who'd been measuring out flour for the pies and cakes they were preparing to bake, dusted her hands on her apron and slipped up behind her former charge. "Then ye truly are happy, lass, really and truly?"

Lacey turned, her pulse in full swing again, and flashed a broad grin. "Oh, Kate, what I am is happier than I've e'er been in my entire life. Do you suppose I might be in love with my husband?"

Kate laughed softly. "Only ye can know that, lass, for only in your heart will you find the answer."

"But I do not know what love is or how this magical thing is supposed to make a person feel inside."

"Tell me, then," Kate said, her voice as soft as her previous chuckles. "How do you feel when ye think of yer husband? Say the words out loud, and ye'll know yerself 'fore I do."

Lacey drew in a deep breath and furrowed her brow in thought. "I do not know that words come to mind when I think of Hawke. Sometimes at the sight of him working, the drops fall from my eyes, even though there is no sadness in my heart."

"Hum, that would seem a very good sign of love and better than words, too. Anything more, lass?"

She paused again, thinking of her other symptoms. "I know, too, that I wish to follow and stay with Hawke always. He is the light in my eye, and he fills me up with joy in my heart. 'Twould that be the love the poets speak so highly of?"

Her laughter cheerful now, Kate said, "Can you na hear yerself, lass? What else could it be?"

What else, indeed, thought Lacey, so full up with this thing called love, she feared her breastbone might split. "Aye, and I'm thinking maybe you're right. I do love my husband, and with all my heart, it would seem, for there is only a wee bit of room left for anything more."

"I'm so happy for ye, lass." Tears sprang into Kate's eyes, and she quickly gave Lacey a hug. "Ye canna know how I've prayed for this these past weeks."

Surprised by the depth of emotion in Kate's voice, as well as the tears in her eyes, Lacey asked, "Why are you crying? I should think your own happiness would be the top o' your prayers."

"I—well, lass, 'tis just that I feel so responsible for you, I expect."

"Why would you be feeling that way about me? I'm the one stole your letter and cursed you into taking me to Wyoming with you."

"Aye, but..." Kate turned away from Lacey and slowly made her way back to the table where her baking supplies were laid out. Then, her voice hesitant, distant somehow, she went on. "I'm the one brung ye half way around the world, and by my way of thinking, that makes me responsible for ye. Now enough of such talk. Tell me; does that husband of yers love ye back?"

There was something in Kate's tone or manner that disturbed Lacey, some little intimation that the woman hadn't been quite honest with her. What could dear, sweet Kate be hiding? Or had what she thought she sensed been imaginary?

"Dona tell me the man is as indifferent as all that."

"Hawke? Oh, goodness no, but 'tis a wee bit difficult to tell what he's thinking," she answered honestly, even if she couldn't be sure that Kate had. "I can not say that Hawke does love me, but then, I can not say that he does not. I do know that he loved the pie I made for him, though."

"Pie?" Kate turned away from her work to stare at Lacey. "Ye've gone and baked up a
pie
... and by yerself?"

"Aye, not one, but two!" she said proudly. "One made of berries at the start of the week, and one made of apples just Wednesday.

"And where, might I ask, did ye get the recipe for apple pie, lass? I dona recall jotting this down."

Feeling smug now, Lacey cocked her head to the side and said, "'Twas simple. I just followed the same recipe you wrote down for berry pie, putting apples inside the crust instead."

"And no spices?"

Lacey shrugged. "I put sugar in, if that be what you mean. Since the lid come off the canister as I was measuring it up, a good deal more sugar than the recipe asked for fell in, too, I think. Hawke seemed to like it anyway. Finished it up last night, he did."

"Humph." Kate laughed to herself. "That big a fool for pie, is the man?"

"My Hawke... a fool?"

"Maybe just for ye, lass." Kate winked. "One can hope, anyway."

"Aye, one can hope, and then maybe, it'll be true." She rolled up her sleeves and studied the supplies on the table. "Where do you want me to start?"

Since Lacey clearly had a lot to learn about cooking yet, as she got to work with the supper preparations, Kate took the time to explain to her former charge about the importance of flavoring in fruit pies, then scribbled several notes about when to use cinnamon, cloves, and other spices: And while she was at it, she spent an extraordinarily long time showing Lacey exactly how to roll out an acceptable pie crust in only one try.

* * *

Around mid-day after all the cows and calves had been rounded up and confined in one large corral, the men came to the house for refreshments and a short break. Hawke propped himself against the fireplace mantle, leaving the couch for Caleb and his ranching neighbors, Willard and Big Jim. Both of the men had come to the branding alone, a surprise since the companion-starved womenfolk in the Centennial area always jumped at the chance to visit one another during these rare gatherings.

Then Hawke remembered that Willard's squaw had lit out for greener pastures, and Big Jim's wife had just given birth to their eighth child. The majority of the hired hands were bachelors, but the few married wranglers kept their wives back in Laramie, which left Lacey and Kate to tend to the needs of the branding crew on their own. Most of the men sat cross-legged on the floor with the exception of two of the more enterprising cowboys who helped themselves to the chairs in the kitchen.

Shortly after the crew gathered in the living room, Lacey appeared bearing a large platter of sandwiches, and Kate, directly behind her, carried an assortment of drinks on a heavy wooden tray. Both women mingled with the guests, offering the refreshments several times over, but no matter where Lacey went or who she was talking to, her gaze never left Hawke's. Easily reading the message in her glittering blue eyes—a wish, he thought, to be back at Winterhawke, alone with him again—he winked and blew out a sigh, sending a duplicate message of his own. Several furtive smiles from Hawke later, and tender blushes in return from his bride, it was time for the actual branding to begin.

As the men filed outside then scattered, each heading toward his appointed chore, Hawke walked alongside Caleb, who was moving slower than the rest of the crew due to his still-sensitive knee.

Remarking on his progress, Hawke said, "I thought you'd be laid up a good long time the way that cow cracked your kneecap. I can hardly believe you're walking so good already."

"I got my lovely Kate to thank for that." Caleb cut loose with a guffaw. "That woman put me through hell these past few weeks, making me work that knee three times a day no matter how much it pained me. Why, she even forced me to put enough weight on it that it brought tears to my eyes, but by God if she wasn't right. That son of a bitch is already stronger than Big Jim's prize bull—and it wasn't that strong before it got broke!"

Hawke thought Caleb was exaggerating mightily about everything. "Kate
forced
you did she, friend, twisted your arm to make you keep bending that knee?" He laughed at the very idea of his mountain man friend so tyrannized by the short little Irishwoman.

"I ain't lying!" said Caleb, shouting to be heard over the roar of bawling cattle. "That woman was relentless, a regular slave driver. 'Course, if I did a good enough job of what she told me to do, my sweet Katie rewarded me pretty good at night." Caleb laughed again, then winked. "Maybe what Kate done was bribe me more than force me."

"Now that makes a little more sense." In a rare meddling mood, Hawke queried his friend further about the marriage he'd made. "How are things are working out for you and Kate?"

"Oh, I'd say they're more than working out, Hawke. Here I am, homelier than a hog's butt with a nose big enough to store a newborn calf in, and that gal treats me like I'm the best thing that happened to her since she was whelped. I don't know what I did to deserve Kate, but I aim to keep her happy as I can and with me for as long as I can." He elbowed Hawke in the ribs. "Leastways till she wakes up some morning and gets a good look at what she tied herself to. Think that woman needs glasses?"

Hawke gave a grudging laugh. "I doubt it, friend. She probably sees right through you like everyone else who bothers to take a good look." And what she saw, he knew from experience, was a good, kind, decent human being, the sort of man who'd never hurt another living soul or animal unless it was absolutely necessary. He knew why Kate had married Caleb even if the man didn't. What Hawke still didn't know was why Lacey had married him—or what was wrong with her.

Despite his recent promise to himself not to dwell on his doubts, Hawke found himself asking Caleb, "Remember that little talk we had the day we both wound up married? I asked you to get Kate aside and see if you couldn't find out what was wrong with Lacey. You never did tell me what you learned."

Caleb abruptly stopped walking, and for a minute, Hawke thought maybe that newly mended knee had given out on him. "What is it, Caleb? Is your leg acting up on you?"

"Oh, ah, no... well, maybe just a little." Caleb dramatically rubbed his knee.

Recognizing something of a ruse in the way his friend was acting, Hawke prodded him further. "About Lacey?"

"Oh, ah, danged if I kin remember exactly what Kate said, what with the way these womenfolk go on and on..."